


A Tolerance for Pain

by QueenThayet



Series: A Tolerance for Pain [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Could Be Canon, Dom!Angelica (implied), Dom!Eliza, Dom/sub, F/M, sub!Alexander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6366889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton has never been satisfied. His brain runs non-stop and he needs help to turn it off. For all his talent with words, he has not been able to ask for what he needs. Luckily, Eliza, with a few hints from Angelica, is able to figure out what Alex needs to be satisfied. </p><p>Basically this is what happens when I'm concurrently reading emmagrant08's "A Cure for Boredom" and listening to the Hamilton cast album and my mind catches on a line from "Helpless."  It just kind of happened. There is some Dom/sub stuff and consensual violence. It's not explicitly discussed beforehand, but Alex, king of the comma sext, made it pretty clear what he wanted, and he's allowed to say stop. If you're not comfortable with that, please go read some of the other excellent Hamilton fic, visit some of the amazing Hamiltrash tumblrs, follow LMM on twitter, or just go listen to the cast album for the billionth time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Strike Me

Alexander recognized Angelica for what she was the moment he saw her – a brilliant and dominant woman – and he wanted her.   
“You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied,” he greeted her.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself,” she rebuffed. 

Was she flirting or dismissing him? Alexander had never been all that good at reading people; he tended to blaze ahead toward what he wanted, regardless of the obstacles in his path. 

“You’re like me. I’m never satisfied.”

“Is that right?” Her mouth quirked into a half smile. Ah, definitely flirting then. 

“I’ve never been satisfied” 

And it was true. As lovely as Laurens was, he didn’t have the same ruthlessness he sensed in this woman. Laurens could never quite bring him to heel, to make him stop thinking, and to be honest, Alexander knew that Laurens didn’t really want to. But Alexander needed it. He craved it. 

“My name is Angelica Schuyler”

“Alexander Hamilton” He returned casually

“Where’s your fam’ly from?”

“Unimportant, there’s a million things I haven’t done, just you wait!” Of course she would ask that question. He covered his discomfort with bravado (but not false bravado – look how far he had come already). She was certainly putting him through his paces. He had never been satisfied, but, maybe, just maybe, this force of a woman, Angelica Schuyler, could give him what he needed.

“Where are you taking me?” Alex asked, jerked out of his thoughts

“I’m about to change your life.” Angelica said with a smile.

“By all means, lead the way.” That had gone rather fast, Alexander thought to himself. Had he sealed the deal so quickly? But instead of a quiet balcony or a deserted room, he found himself standing in front of another beautiful woman. Wait, what?

“Elizabeth Schuyler. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the woman—Elizabeth Schuyler apparently—introduced herself. 

“Schuyler?” Alex repeated, rapidly reviewing the last several minutes of conversation, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. 

“My sister,” Angelica clarified, laughing silently at his confusion. 

“Thank you for all your service,” Elizabeth continued. He looked at her more closely this time. He could clearly see the family resemblance. Elizabeth was more reserved than Angelica, quieter. But clearly interested in him, judging by the look she was giving him. And willing to overcome her shyness, as well as his befuddlement, to press her claim forward. 

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” Alexander responded gallantly. 

“I’ll leave you to it” Angelica breezed off, returning to her circuit around the room, leaving Alexander perplexed. Was Angelica not interested in him, then? Why would she flirt with him, and then take him to her younger sister? He set that aside and focused on the woman in front of him.

“Miss Elizabeth, how are you enjoying the dance?” Alexander queried.

“Eliza, please. And you are Alexander Hamilton, the General’s aide-de-camp.” She said it not as a question, but as a statement. She knew who he was already. That was new. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. Yes, I’m Alexander Hamilton, at your service, miss,” Alex tried to recover his composure. How did this woman continue to put him off balance? Everything he said made him sound like a child seeking kisses on the playground. Where was his smooth tongue and his quick wit when he needed it? He had been fumbling since he met her. Since she introduced herself, and then introduced him as well. And then she smiled at him. 

“She’s quite the force of nature, is she not?” Elizabeth – no, Eliza – continued. 

“Who?” Alex asked, confused again. 

“My sister,” Eliza motioned. “She dazzles everyone, leaving them confused and star struck at her brilliance. It’s amazing you’ve managed to retain your powers of speech after feeling the full force of Angelica.”

Ah, so she had noticed his clumsiness. But was attributing it to Angelica, when it was clearly her fault. How was this woman, yes beautiful, but otherwise unassuming, doing this to him? And how did she not realize her own effect? He had held his own with Angelica, had remained witty, flirtatious, and confident. Eliza was the one throwing him off his game. Eliza had somehow made every other sentence out of his mouth imbecilic.

“May I have this dance?” he changed the subject. Maybe his feet would do a better job than his mouth was doing at the time.

Two dances later, he was feeling more confident. Luckily, Eliza had seemed satisfied simply watching him, rather than engaging in conversation. Normally, he wouldn’t wish for such silence in a dance partner, but given the fool he was making of himself when he spoke, he welcomed the chance to regain his bearings. And there was something about Eliza’s gaze. She blushed prettily when he looked back into her eyes, but beneath that blush there was something more. 

She bore into his eyes as if she could see his very soul.


	2. Writin' a Letter Nightly

Alexander wrote Eliza his first letter immediately after he returned to his tent. His skill with the quill was undeniable, and he hoped it served him better than his traitorous and cowardly tongue. 

“My Dear Eliza,

I cannot believe my good fortune in meeting you. My thanks and regards to your sister, Angelica. I depart tomorrow with the general, but, if I may, I wish to continue our association. I believed not in providence or fate before our paths intersected, but now I cannot believe that we have met simply to continue in opposite directions. I do not wish our meeting to be a mere tangent, but rather the first sign of our convergence. I shall not rest tonight, full of excitement from your touch, your smile, your very glance in my direction. I shall not ever be able to rest unless I know I may know you further. Please promise this tortured soul release and write me on the morrow. Adieu, my charmer,

A. Hamilton”

Angelica saw the look on Eliza’s face as she opened the letter from Alexander. The letter than had arrived only hours after they had returned from the ball. Eliza was fully gone for the charming young man. She squeaked a protest as Angelica lifted the letter from her hands to read for herself. 

“Angelica, that’s mine!”

Angelica scanned the letter. My, he was forward. Angelica wondered if her sister fully understood all the metaphors Alexander was employing, giving her a sideways glance. Eliza’s blush went even darker. She understood enough then. 

Angelica arched a brow and said only: “Be careful with that one, love. He will do what it takes to survive,” knowing that her caution was hopeless. Eliza was helpless, that was obvious from last night. But it seemed Alexander was in a similar state. Perhaps Eliza could leave him satisfied. 

****  
Alexander looked at the missive in his hand, once more not believing his good fortune. His tenth letter from his Eliza, as he already thought of her. He was hers, it was only fair. He wondered at her reactions to his letters, if she knew what he wanted, needed from her. Her responses left him teetering on the edge. Did she write such things because she knew his darkest desires and delighted in tormenting him? Or did she brush up against them by chance? Alexander flushed with the headiness of the uncertainty. 

“My Angel, I write in haste as we leave in mere moments. Know that your Alexander will be in your arms almost as soon as this letter, if you will have my unworthy self. I wish to pay a visit to your father upon our arrival. I find myself unbalanced, wondering and hoping at your response. I have always felt such delicious disquiet from you, even as I proclaim myself yours. All I possess is yours, should you desire it: my honor, my tolerance for pain, an unfinished college education, even my very brain. If I have been too forward, I look forward to making amends. Love me as well as I love you. A.Ham”

Angelica carried Alexander’s most recent letter up to Eliza’s room and stayed while she read it. She watched as Eliza blushed bright red and leaned back in her chair, fanning herself slightly with the letter. 

“What was in this one?” Angelica asked.

“He loves me. He wants me. He’s going to be here soon and he’s going to speak with father.” Eliza handed the letter to her sister. “But I don’t understand all of what he says. Why should he find me disquieting? And how could that possibly be delicious? What is this about possessing his honor and tolerance for pain?”

Angelica read the letter, a conclusion clicking into place. It was in the first words Alexander ever said to her: “You strike me.” He meant it literally. “Please promise this tortured soul release.” 

“Oh, Eliza” she breathed. “I know why he has never been satisfied.”


	3. May You Always Be Satisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the wedding night. They are no longer just flirting. Here's where we earn the Explicit rating. You have been warned.

Eliza sat in her shift in her room—their room¬¬—after their wedding. She had been educated about what to expect from her wedding night from various female friends and relatives. And to tell the truth, she and Alexander had anticipated quite a lot in the stolen moments they could get together. She had gone from shivering in anticipation to just shivering. No one warned her that her groom might be absent from the proceedings entirely. 

She thought back on her conversations with Angelica preceding her union. Angelica told her that Alexander needed her to be strong, needed her to be firm with him. She might feel helplessly in love with him, but he needed to be helpless before her. Angelica told her that no matter how lovely he was, Eliza was worth twenty of him, and should never allow herself to be brushed aside. She needed to assert herself. 

As she added wood to the fire, she stopped shivering with cold, and began trembling with rage. How DARE he abandon her on their wedding night! Eliza stood, briskly brushing her hands off, only to hear the door creak open as Alexander tiptoed into her¬¬—their—room.

“Where have you been?” Eliza asked in a deceptively calm voice, her mouth a thin line of displeasure.

Alexander gasped and involuntarily took a step back. He was torn between sorrow at displeasing his bride, and the flush of passion that over took him as he witnessed her iron control over her anger.  
Alexander dropped to his knees at her side, grasping her hand. 

“I’m so sorry my dear, I ran into Burr, he came after all, you know how he--” 

“Never mind, I don’t wish to hear your excuses.” Eliza cut him off firmly. He felt blushed with shame, as her firm response led to his own firm response. This wasn’t how men were supposed to act with their wives, he knew, but that knowledge only made his yard grow longer. 

Eliza watched him, observing the changes in his physiology. So this was what Angelica meant when she said Alexander needed to be helpless before her. She cupped her hand around his cheek.

“I know how Burr winds you up. Perhaps you need a little help unwinding that brain of yours.”

Alexander jerked forward slightly at her response. Was she saying...? Did she know?

“Oh, you like that idea. Well, I’m still quite displeased with you. I’ve been sitting here in my shift, freezing, waiting for you. And you come in, flush with wine, your blood up after a fight with Aaron Burr. That was not exactly how I imagined you would be getting your blood up, tonight.”

“Eliza, I—” Alex started. He was silenced by a quick slap across his mouth. 

“I believe I told you I didn’t want to hear your excuses. You may not speak unless you wish to tell me to stop. But I don’t think you will. Angelica told me I would have to take a firm hand with you. Apparently this is what she meant.”

Alexander whined slightly, frozen in place, the throbbing in his trousers matching the throbbing in his lips from her slap. Angelica knew. Angelica knew. And she introduced him to Eliza, now his bride. His furious, beautiful, tantalizing bride. 

“Strip, Alexander.” The soft-spoken order flew past his ears and burrowed directly into his brain. His fingers fumbled at his buttons before he even realized what he was doing. His clothes fell to the floor and he returned to his knees at Eliza’s side. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, gently, then twisting in to force his face to look at hers. His eyes had lost most of their lovely color, his pupils blown out with desire. She had never seen him more beautiful. 

“So lovely. I knew you were mine. Look how much you want this.”

Alexander didn’t respond, merely attempted to lean into her caress. 

“But I can still hear your brain whirling away. Let’s give your non-stop thoughts a bit of a break. You said that was mine as well, yes, your very brain?”

She understood his letter. She knew what he wanted. What he needed. He felt his member grow harder, standing to attention even as he wanted to collapse. 

Eliza’s eyes were drawn to Alexander’s yard, looking more like a redcoat standing at attention than a soldier in the Continental Army. She had of course felt it in their stolen moments previously, but to see it, to see him, naked and helpless before her, under her control. She shivered, not believing her own audaciousness in dressing down her own husband, and then ordering him to undress before her. Her cheeks flushed as she felt her hardened nipples chafe against the fabric of her shift, her own desire becoming evident. 

“Are you ready to apologize, Alexander? Or do you need further reprimand?”

“I’m ready to—“ Slap. She struck his mouth again. 

“Alexander, I believe I told you only to speak if you wished to say stop. I didn’t hear the word stop, so I can only assume you were disobeying me. Purposefully.” The last word came out almost as a whisper, Eliza breathless with wanting. “It seems you need further reprimand. I will strike you five times, once for each word you spoke out of turn. And then you may make amends. Without using your words.”

Without being told, Alexander turned his face up to his wife, waiting for her punishment. 

“No, I think I shall try to avoid further damage to your pretty face. Bend over, Alexander.”

Alexander moved with alacrity to bend over the bed where his Betsey motioned, leaving his buttocks exposed. He shifted with anticipation as he heard her move behind him, wondering if she would strike him with her hand or something else. A light rap to his shoulder blades “Hold still, Alexander”

The first strike came swiftly, directly on his right buttock. His hips jerked forward, thrusting against the rough friction of the bedclothes. 

A second strike. “No, Alexander. You may not spend against the bed. That is mine. You said you were mine. And I will have all of you.”

A third then a fourth, harder, directly onto already reddened skin. Alexander groaned with the effort of holding still, waiting for the last strike. Instead, he felt smooth skin running lightly over his burning backside. Then it went lower, ghosting over his bollocks. He felt like he would explode. “Hnngh” he moaned. 

The fifth strike came, followed by gentle hands turning him over, holding his face. Eliza looked into his eyes anxiously. “How was that, my love? Is that enough?” Alexander couldn’t respond. He was floating. His mind was calm for the first time in as long as he could remember. It was no longer racing like he was running out of time. He was just, there, in the moment, with his wife. He gave a satisfied sigh, curling into her embrace. Eliza stroked him gently for a moment, feeling the tension leaving his body. She ran her hands over his body, feeling how relaxed and pliant he was all over, except for one area. “Are you ready to make amends, my love?” she whispered into his ear. 

Alexander crushed his mouth into hers, saying with his tongue and lips what his voice could never manage. He pressed his body against Eliza’s, his bobstay seeking to dock, thwarted once more by her shift. He pulled away with a frustrated growl, looking helplessly at the white fabric, as if he didn’t know how to proceed. 

“I suppose this is a bit in the way” Eliza laughed, low and throaty as she gracefully pulled the offending garment over her head. Alexander, no longer calm and pliant, wished to show his wife how very sorry he was that he kept her waiting. The only thought left in his head was to leave her satisfied. He kissed frantically down her neck, trying to remember the gasps and moans his Betsey made, but finding that his brain was still curiously absent. He swirled his tongue around one pert nipple, rolling the other between his fingers before continuing downward. Eliza leaned against the bed, twisting her fingers in his hair once again as he continued to worship her body. “Alexander” she gasped, as his tongue reached her monosyllable, rendering both of them speechless. He lapped at her slick quim, tasting her, thrusting his tongue inside her, biting and sucking at her nub. Now Eliza was the one gasping and pliant, shuddering through her paroxysm. But instead of the sleepy satisfaction that usually followed such explorations with her fingers, she felt wetter and more wanting. With a wanton moan, she fell further back onto her—their—bed and let her legs spread, pulling Alexander back up to her lips. She tasted herself on his tongue as she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him down against her. She rubbed her slick cunny against his yard, trying to find the angle that would allow him to pierce her. 

“My love, take your time” Alexander murmured, his voice calm and satisfied, belying the urgency displayed by his body. He reached down and slid one finger, and then a second, into Eliza’s monosyllable, before taking his member in hand and slowly, so slowly, pushing it into his lovely, wonderful, perfect wife. He would make this good for her. He would make his amends. He would please his Betsey. He watched as Eliza’s eyes went wide as she felt his knob breach her lips. Alexander tried to slide into her slowly, allowing her time to acclimate to the fullness of his horn. Once again, his attempts at control were thwarted as Eliza thrust up, engulfing him to the root. Alex found his mind stripped of rational thought once more, and his body eagerly meeting the cause thrust for thrust, grinding against her nub as he found the convergence of their lines. He felt Eliza’s paroxysm before he heard her gasp, as he his member was squeezed and flooded within its sheath. He bit back a cry as he spent and everything seemed to stop. 

Eliza was gently kissing the line of his jaw, only the softest hint of beard betraying the fact that he didn’t yet require an evening shave. “There you are” she said softly “are you satisfied?”

“How did you know?” He asked, words failing him once again. 

“Angelica,” she smiled slightly in response. “She warned me you required a firm hand. I didn’t quite realize what she meant, what you had meant in your letters, until I saw how you reacted. Then I just... knew. I knew you were mine, and I knew I could give you what you needed. Did your tortured soul find its release? Were you satisfied?”

“Oh Eliza, there’s a million things we haven’t done, just you wait,” Alexander sighed into the arms of his love, calm and happy and at peace. This could be enough, he thought. It could be enough.


End file.
